A Christmas Bride (16 page)

Jeff shrugged. “Maybe two inches, but it's still snowing hard. Were they calling for this much?”

“I don't think so,” Walter said. “And don't worry, Willow. I'll drive you home.”

She sat down with a
thump
and put her elbow on the table in order to prop her head. “Thanks, Walter. I'm so looking forward to going home and getting a lecture about eating meat. I'm really sorry Mom boycotted your party, Melissa.”

Dusty laughed. “Wouldn't be the first time your mom boycotted something.”

“And your mother…Shoot, I'm too tipsy to think of anything clever.”

Poppy spoke up then. “Willow, why don't you take one of the rooms upstairs at the inn until after the wedding? I mean, you're at the inn every day, we have plenty of room, and we don't do vegan at the inn.”

“That's a fantastic idea,” David said. Poppy had the temerity to give him a big smile. The woman was as bad as Mother when it came to playing matchmaker. Only in this case, he was definitely interested. And he was tired of Willow's avoidance tactics.

Willow turned toward him, cocking her head, her gaze zooming in on his left hand. “You've…” An attractive blush crept up her cheeks, and she didn't finish the rest of her sentence. He lifted his eyebrow and swore her green eyes darkened.

She must have read his intentions because she squared her shoulders in that way of hers and said, “That's so generous of you guys. I've always wanted to spend the night at Eagle Hill Manor. I don't suppose you'd let me stay in the Churchill Suite, would you?”

Poppy, who he now realized had been manipulating him for some time, gave a large, theatrical shrug. “Why not?” she said, grinning in Walter's direction. “No one else is sleeping in there right at the moment.”

The Churchill Suite was a corner room with windows on three sides that provided an expansive view of the snow-covered woods and, during daylight hours, the ruins of the old Laurel Chapel. The room's walls had not been repainted during the paint party, and the red paint had faded over the years, as had the gold and red brocade curtains and bed hangings.

But the period four-poster, mahogany bed was gorgeous.

Willow had dreamed of sleeping in that bed since she was a child of six. It was, as far as she could imagine, the most romantic bed she'd ever seen. With its tall mattress and feather comforter, it seemed like a bed fit for a princess.

Standing here in the room, all grown-up and slightly tipsy from too much wine, she was willing to concede that there had been moments when she'd gotten tired of playing the prince in Shelly's endless princess games. Every girl, especially the ones from the wrong side of the tracks, indulged in a certain amount of Cinderella fantasy, bankrupt and anti-feminist as those fantasies might be.

She was having one of those fantasies about Prince David when a knock came on the door that sent her hormones racing. David had said good night at the inn's door as he and Natalie headed off to the caretaker's cottage. She hadn't expected him to come looking for her after he put Natalie to bed.

“It's me, dear,” Mrs. M said, sending Willow's emotions tumbling in an entirely different direction.

Willow opened the door, and Mrs. M brought in an armload of fluffy white towels, guest-size hand soap from Serenity Farm, shampoo, and toothpaste, along with a new toothbrush still in its packaging. “We still have a small store of guest amenities,” she said.

She dropped the towels on the bed, turned, and gathered Willow up into her arms for a long, hard hug. When she pulled back, her eyes were wet. “I didn't say it tonight but, dear girl, I am so thankful you've returned to us. I want to apologize for being a foolish old woman when you first talked to me about trying to bring this place back to life.” She cupped Willow's cheek the way a mother might. “Thank you. For everything. For what you've done for the inn, and for Natalie, and most especially for what you've accomplished with David.”

“Accomplished?” It seemed an odd word, as if David were some sort of project, like the inn itself.

Mrs. M grinned at her. “Oh, I think you know what I'm talking about. I'm sure you noticed that he wasn't wearing his wedding ring today.”

Willow nodded. “I would have thought you'd be sad about that.”

Mrs. M shook her head. “No, dear, I'm not. I've lost a spouse, too, and I'm coming to realize that living in the past isn't healthy. You and Walter have helped me see that. All that trouble you've had with Restero could have broken you. You could have become bitter or jaded, but you haven't. You just keep going. You're like a breath of fresh air blowing through these dusty halls.”

“Thank you, Mrs. M,” Willow said, her voice a little wobbly. All her life she'd wanted to earn Mrs. M's respect because Poppy Marchand was exactly the kind of mother she'd always wanted. Hell, Poppy Marchand was the kind of woman she aspired to be.

“Thank you, especially, for inviting me to stay here for a little while, and in the Churchill Suite. I've wanted to sleep here for years and years. I even painted my bedroom at the farm a bright red, just so I could pretend.”

Mrs. M laughed. “Well, it is a grand room. Enjoy it, my dear. It won't be for very long.”

The wonderful, warm, slightly tipsy high Willow had been riding vanished. “I know. But at least I can check this off my list.”

“With all this work you've been putting into the inn and the wedding reception, how are you doing finding investors for your plan?”

Willow shook her head. “Not well, unfortunately.” The wine was suddenly giving her a headache.

“I'm sorry.” Mrs. M gave her another quick hug. “But you know that old saying, don't you, about God and windows?”

Willow shook her head. “Mrs. M, you know my mother doesn't believe in God or organized religion.”

“Well, it's the one about whenever God closes a door He opens a window. And that's the thing. Maybe you weren't ever meant to own the inn. Maybe something better will come along.”

Willow couldn't think of what that might possibly be, because the more she worked on bringing the inn back to life and planning Melissa's wedding reception, the more she wanted to do that for a living. “I guess,” she said without enthusiasm.

“Well, you think about it, okay? Now have a good sleep. I'll see you in the morning.”

 
Y
ou're moving in with that man?” Mom asked on Friday morning as Willow stood in her dormer bedroom packing a suitcase.

“I'm not moving in with a man, Mom,” she said, although, truly, if David wanted to sneak into the Churchill Suite one night, she'd probably let him. “I'm just moving into the inn. On a temporary basis. It will be easier this way.” She didn't say a word about the fact that Mrs. M wasn't a vegan.

“You're falling for him, aren't you?” Mom said from her station at the doorway. She was in full-out Mom mode, which meant that it didn't matter what Willow said; Mom would hear what she wanted to hear.

“I am not.” She kept her head down, folding jeans and putting them into her suitcase. “He's my boss. That's it. He hired me to do—”

“Don't lie. I don't particularly care if you lie to me, but don't lie to yourself. I can see the way your eyes light up every time his name is mentioned. And I saw the way he looked at you the other day at the painting party. I even understand how attractive one of those Lyndons can be—all alpha male and in charge. It's seductive.”

Willow tucked her UVA sweatshirt into the suitcase and then looked up at Mom. “But he's not like that. I mean he does sometimes behave as if he's entitled. But if I compare David to Corbin, it's like they're in two different leagues. Corbin had an ego the size of Alaska. But David doesn't. Not really. He can be very…”

“Charming,” Mom said, putting her hands on her hips.

“No, not really. He's not very charming, actually. To be honest, he's…” She stopped talking while she thought about it. She'd known David for years and years. He hadn't changed. He'd come down from the hill to go fishing, but once he'd arrived he'd been utterly tongue-tied.

“To be honest, he's kind of shy,” she said, the thought becoming a revelation. David was shy. Which made his potential run for Congress utterly absurd. He'd be miserable as a congressman, constantly making cold calls looking for campaign contributions.

Had Shelly understood this? Probably. Maybe that's why she threw herself into the inn renovations. Maybe she'd hoped or prayed that one day she could get David to see the light. Maybe she'd just wanted to give him a soft place to land, when he figured it out.

“Look,” Mom said, pulling Willow from these revelations, “if you move into the inn, people are going to talk about you. They won't say nice things. The truth is, baby doll, you will never be the kind of woman the people in this town want to see with David Lyndon.”

Mom's words were like a physical blow. Willow slammed down the suitcase lid and lashed out. “What exactly makes me so inferior? Why is it that when I ask for more, everyone feels the need to punish me? And as for reputations, you're a fine one to be talking to me about where, and with whom, I sleep.”

Mom wasn't fazed at all by Willow's words. She stood there in the doorway and actually smiled. “Baby, it's perfectly all right to ask for more, but in my experience you will rarely get it unless you take it for yourself. The Lyndons sure aren't going to show you any charity. And don't twist my words. I didn't mean that you weren't worthy of David Lyndon. You are. I'm just saying that he won't ever see you as being worthy of him. And I'm certain his people won't either.”

It was so annoying when Mom spoke the truth. “Don't you think I know that?” Willow's voice betrayed her emotions.

“Then don't move out.”

But how could she not go? On some level, she'd been wanting this all her life, and it had as much to do with Mrs. M as it did David.

She took a step forward and opened her arms for her mother. “I've got to go. But it's only temporary.”

Mom hesitated, as if she didn't understand why Willow was standing there with open arms. So instead of waiting for Mom to give her that big hug, Willow just moved in and gave Mom the hug she'd always needed.

Mom actually returned it, patting her back. “It's only temporary,” Willow repeated. “Besides, I'm never going to raise the money to buy the place. I've exhausted every possible investor on my short and long lists. So I'll be back after Jeff and Melissa's wedding.”

Mom nodded and whispered, “I'll miss you.”

“Will you?”

“Of course I will. I know it took a disaster to get you to come home, baby girl, but I'm glad you're back. And I hope you won't be blowing off the County Council meeting on Monday. They'll be taking public comment about this park proposal, and I've organized a big protest.”

“Yeah, I'll be there. Dusty is a friend. I'll even carry a sign.”

“Well, I'm glad to hear that, because the Lyndons are on the opposite side of this issue.”

“Not all of them, Mom. David has agreed to represent Dusty, not only at the council meeting, but in court if it comes to that. He told us that last night at Jeff and Melissa's.”

Mom's eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah. It pretty much blew everyone's mind when he said it. Of course, it was a huge surprise that he and Natalie showed up there at all.”

Mom blinked a few times. “Baby doll, be careful. Some of those Lyndons will fool you into thinking they're regular guys. But when it comes right down to it, they aren't.”

There was a note of sorrow in Mom's voice that had Willow putting two and two together and coming up with an odd number. “Mom, are you telling me you had an affair with one of those Lyndons, as you call them?”

Her mother's silence was all the answer Willow needed.

“Oh my God, Mom, you didn't. Which one? Not Mark Lyndon. I can't see him ever cheating on Pam.”

Mom looked away. “I didn't say anything about having an affair with any of them. All I said was be careful with your heart.”

Mom turned around and stalked from the room, leaving a boatload of unanswered questions in her wake.

David stood at the front of the Jefferson County Council meeting room and found himself thinking that the room needed just a little bit of Christmas tinsel or even a menorah to relieve the relentless gray. No doubt this was Willow's doing.

He'd never really noticed the grayness before or how the only decorations in the room were the public service posters urging people to get their flu shots and wash their hands. No wonder he'd had trouble staying awake during meetings.

David turned his attention to the audience that had gathered this Tuesday evening for the hearing. It was an overflow crowd. The early birds occupied uncomfortable molded plastic seats, and the late arrivals stood at the back of the room. The vast majority of those standing were women of a certain age. All of them carried handmade signs with slogans ranging from
SAVE OUR PRIVATE FISHING RIGHTS
to
DOWN WITH THE IMPERIALISTS
.

Linda Petersen carried that one, and David had no idea what imperialism had to do with an eminent domain case, but he had to hand it to Linda; she'd turned out an impressive crowd of sixtysomething ladies in support of Dusty's property rights.

Willow was there too. She'd ditched her usual corporate look for a light blue, partially unbuttoned Henley T-shirt and a pair of jeans that showed off her curves. David's fingers itched to undo a few more of those buttons and have a look. This was nothing new.

When Poppy had first suggested the idea of Willow staying at the inn, he'd almost jumped for joy. She would be there, within reach. He would find a way to finish what they'd started out in the meadow by Laurel Chapel. But after a week of having meals with her and bumping into her at odd moments, he'd come to realize that starting an affair with Willow was a lot more complicated than he'd first thought.

First of all, he'd come to the stunning and somewhat humbling realization that he'd never actually pursued a woman before. He and Shelly had met when they were sixteen—half a lifetime ago. He really didn't know how to go about suggesting an assignation. And after the way she'd run away from him the day of the paint party, he didn't exactly feel confident about his romantic skill set.

And then there was Natalie. She got in the way. All the time. It wasn't as if he could sneak up into Willow's room and suggest an assignation. Natalie lived at the inn too.

Not to mention Poppy.

The cat-and-mouse game was driving him insane. He had a plan to bring it to an end. Natalie was staying overnight tonight at Uncle Jamie's house because Poppy had bridge and David and Mother would be here at the hearing doing public battle with each other. David aimed to get Willow alone after the hearing.

And he hoped he could convince her to take a chance on him.

He shifted his gaze to the dais at the front of the room. Bill Cummins was there, staring at him like a piranha. Bill was going to run; there were no two ways about it. Hale's hope for avoiding a primary challenge was in vain.

Mother was up there in front, too, schmoozing Brian Stanthorp, the man who had assumed the chairman's seat when David resigned from the council after Shelly's death. Mother and the Jefferson County Historical Society had brought all kinds of exhibits and charts and photos, which were arranged on easels at the front of the room.

Dusty came up behind David and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Are you sure about this? Because I had a parking-lot encounter with your mother, and she looked like she had a whole hive of bees up her backside.”

“What did she say?”

“Not one word, to tell you the truth. It was that look that said it all.”

“I'm sorry.”

Dusty shrugged. “Parents. We don't get to pick 'em.”

Just then Chairman Stanthorp asked everyone to take their seats. Almost immediately Linda and her cohorts began to shake their signs and chant, “Hands off our land.” The noise reverberated around the room.

“Quiet, please,” the chair said in a patient tone as the noise escalated. “I said quiet,” he said again in a louder voice, his face going red.

When this only served to increase Linda's volume, Brian stood up and bellowed, “Linda, shut the hell up. We're just having a hearing here. It's not the end of the world.”

The words bounced right off Linda and her protesters.

Dusty grinned. “I'm liking this.”

“Don't get too cocky. Linda is technically disturbing the peace,” David said, standing up and heading toward the back of the room, where Linda, flanked by the sexy and adorable Willow, was urging her troops on. The protesters looked like they were having the time of their lives.

He'd gotten halfway across the room when Chief LaRue came through the room's back door, followed by three of his deputies.

“Have the protesters removed,” Stanthorp directed.

“Uh, yessir, but where do you want me to put them?” Chief LaRue asked.

“In jail.”

“But—”

“You heard the man, Paul.” Mother popped up from her seat in the front row. “Put all of them in jail. They are disrupting a meeting. At the very least they should be charged with disorderly conduct.”

“Wait,” David said, “if I can—”

“You have nothing of worth to say here, David,” Bill Cummins said, giving him a cheesy grin. “And I'm just dying to watch you explain your position when we debate next year.”

“Bill, please,” Brian said. “Let's keep election politics out of this.” The chair turned toward the chief of police. “Arrest them, Paul, please.”

“You all are under arrest. I mean it,” Chief LaRue said in a menacing voice that drew
boo
s and cat calls. At Linda's direction, the protesters sat down on the floor and continued to shout, “Save our land.”

Chief LaRue gave David a disgusted look with a little sympathetic shake of his head. This would never have happened on David's watch. He'd always tried to bring in all sides of any issue and work out a compromise. Linda had never given him any kind of problem back when he was the chairman of the County Council.

Paul looked uncomfortable, but he did as he was told. He turned and directed his deputies to haul the ladies out. It almost broke David's heart to see Linda and a dozen gray-haired senior citizens get dragged from the hearing room.

Willow found herself in the Shenandoah Falls jail, which was located in the same space as the police department in the county building two floors down from the commission's hearing room. The department had three holding cells, but there were more prisoners than could reasonably fit, so some of the protesters, including Mom, were sent across the street to the Jefferson County Detention Facility.

Willow hoped those jail cells were more appealing than the city jail, which was dark and smelly and raised a deep fear in her that probably came from binge watching television shows like
Orange Is the New Black.

At least Willow wasn't alone. Mom's friends from Colonial Acres, Leslie, Susan, and Alice, shared her cell. They were an island of calm, but there was a chance none of these sixtysomething ladies truly understood the seriousness of the situation. They seemed to be living in the past.

“I haven't had so much fun since we took over Columbia University back in sixty-eight,” Alice said as she made herself comfortable on one of the narrow bunks that passed for a bed. It was hard to see Alice as a hippie protester, especially since she was dressed in a pair of frumpy tan knit pants and brightly flowered blouse that was just a tiny bit small for her large breasts. Her wire-rimmed half-glasses completed the grandmotherly look.

“I wonder if we'll be strip-searched,” Susan asked in a voice that didn't sound in the least apprehensive.

“Don't listen to them,” Leslie said, giving Willow a friendly pat on the back. “We're not going to be strip-searched or booked or arraigned. Chief LaRue is a sensible man. He'll probably wait until the hearing is over and let us go with a warning. If he was really serious, they would send someone in to question us, take our names, addresses, and social security numbers, and—”